Well, it’s official. I’m tired.

Not in a "Gee, I only got six hours of sleep last night" sort of way, but in a "Gee, I only got six hours of sleep last week" sort of way. We’ve been working on the house non-stop for two weeks, and while we’re making great progress, it’s taking a toll on my psyche and body.

I’m not a coffee drinker. Really. I never got into the groove of having a cup or two in the morning, or one with dessert. I have a cup now and again as the mood strikes me, but it’s not a habitual thing. I find that the amount of caffeine, especially in the crankcase oil they brew at work, makes my stomach go all wiggly, and it doesn’t so much wake me up as prop my eyes open like Alex in A Clockwork Orange while the rest of my body figures out a way to fake the appearance of being alert.

These days, I have a cup every morning at work to keep my stinging eyes open, and my slurred, tired speech from giving me away. Oh patron saint of caffeine, I beseech thee to wake me from my slumber and deliver me unto consciousness!

It’s finally starting to feel like Halloween. No, not fall, Halloween –- that is the official season as far as I’m concerned. More on this topic another time, as it’s deserving of a post all it’s own.

Had a nice chat with Steve last week. It’s always too long between calls, and we take such a long time to catch up. I got a few dirty looks from Lady for the time I spent not working on the house, but it was worth it.

HOUSE UPDATES
(if this doesn’t interest you, skip the rest of the post)

The work on the house is progressing nicely. Almost every surface that needs primer has been primed and all of the ceilings have been painted. One room actually has its final color on the walls. There is no longer any remnants of the old drop ceiling in the kitchen.

I’ve completed Wiring Phase 1: Power which includes removing every receptacle, the box in the wall it was mounted to, drilling up through the floor into the wall and pulling a ground wire from that spot to the power main, enlarging the hole in the wall for a new box and installing the new box and a new three pronged grounded receptacle. I also added two new power circuits, expanded a few existing ones and added the power and switches for a ceiling fan. We have an electrician coming out this week to give us an estimate on upgrading the fuse panels to breakers.

Wiring Phase 2: Communications commences this week, and that involves pulling phone, Ethernet and cable-tv to all the areas that need it. The problem here is that since the plumbers have finally filled in the Grand Canyon under the house, I have an inordinate amount of sand piled up under there. I mean, it’s touching the floor in some areas. They do that because the sand will eventually settle, and the wider/deeper the hole, the more sand it requires. Unfortunately, I now have to crawl through the wet dunes to run comm cables from the back corner of the house to everywhere else. Joy.

All told, we’re moderately on schedule and should wrap up all the necessities this week. Next week we start to trickle things in from storage, and the weekend of October 11th we’ll get a truck and do the big move from storage. All you folks that offered to help us move, be prepared for the sounding the horn that will signal a rallying of the troops right about that time. We may call upon a few Special Forces to help up do some trickling before then.

Tired.

*sighs*

Pain.

*cracks neck and back*

Sand in every intimate nook and cranny of my body.

*dusts off to no avail*

That pretty much sums up my physical and mental states right now, and likely for the next few weeks. Lady and I have taken possession of the house and are working feverishly to complete a specific task list before mid-October so we can move our stuff, and ourselves in. The list includes painting every paintable surface, grounding every receptacle, wiring a few new receptacles and lights, and running communication wires — telephone, Ethernet and cable-tv to be precise. Other tasks to be done (but not by us) include alarm installation and replacing the power fuse panels with breaker mains.

I’ve been crawling around under the house like a Viet Cong tunnel-rat, running wires to all of the outlets in the house in an effort to ground them to protect my electronics and myself. The house is raised, and the previous owners had done a marvelous job of laying down 10 mil sheeting under there and having sand pumped in. The net result is a clean and dry environment to work in — a refreshing change from the rest of the houses in New Orleans I’ve worked under.

Unfortunately, sand is prone to get pretty much everywhere it can within your clothes, hair and anywhere else not hermetically sealed on your body. It also has a very fine texture, so it sticks to your skin, especially if you’ve been sweating. There are also spots where I must crawl under pipes, sometimes using my feet to push me along while laying on my back. Did you know that the back pockets of jeans make wonderful scoop shovels? The last time I had to undress in the shower was over thirteen years ago when I would attend The Rocky Horror Picture Show twice a weekend, every weekend for several years, and that was to shake the rice out of my underwear (you young-uns probably have no idea what I’m talking about).

There is 36" of space in some spots to work in, but that still means spending hours at a time hunched over or crawling on elbows and knees. It’s finally starting to take a toll on my back after doing it for four days in a row. I woke up this morning with the distinct feeling that several of my vertebrae had fused. They’re just now settling down into a sharp throbbing pain.

Joy.

Lady has spent days prepping the walls for painting and will get a start on them very soon. I don’t envy her that job, as it’s as much a pain-in-the-ass as my "underground railroad" is. Three coats of paint — one of primer and two of color — on every surface of every room (minus the floor and woodwork) except the den, which has paneling. I’m quite sure that her back will be killing her before long. I have tried to make the job easier by getting her a Power Roller to help speed things along (and once more, I live up to my "Stuff" namesake).

We did, however, take a break from our toils this weekend to visit with the ever distant GonzO and Heather who were in town from far west for Michelle and Raul’s wedding. As Snap points out, we’d sweat during the day, clean ourselves up, and hang out and party all night long. We did the same for the day of the wedding. We were exhausted, but it was so worth it. It’s always a delight and joy to hang out with GonzO and Heather when they’re in town. They make the otherwise fantastic rogue’s gallery we have here locally even more complete. Cheers to you guys, and I can’t wait until you’re permanent residents down here in this sweaty dungeon once again. I’m going to confiscate and destroy your continental passports, and you’ll never be able to leave again. So there.

We never have any fun with you guys.

We also had a gaggle of the local crew (and not-so-local crew) over to the house to see it mid-construction. I was, and still am, amazed at the honest-to-$diety interest that everyone showed for the house. I thought for sure that I would get the same glazed look that people get when parents start talking about their kids to non-parents, but no. Everyone wanted to know more, and to poke around in every deep, dark recess of the house to see more. Sancho even went so far as to slip under the house and crawl around like a hyperactive salamander for a few minutes. It pleases me to no end to know that folks are happy for us, and our new home. It’s likely to be ground zero for some memorable get-togethers (more likely hard-to-remember afterwards get-togethers).

Back to Michelle and Raul’s wedding.

It was fantastic, and everything a good wedding should be. It was not held in a church, but instead in neutral territory. The reception was held right there, commencing as soon as the ceremony was over — no traveling from one place to another. The ceremony itself was simple, sweet and elegant, performed by someone close to the hearts of the bride and groom. Michelle was stunning in her gown and Raul was handsome in his tuxedo. Everyone looked and played nice. The food was superb. What more could you ask for on such an important day?

Congratulations you two. Safe journey on this, the next portion of your lives together. I’m extremely happy for you both.

Ah well. I guess it’s time to return to the sand mines. When you see me in my spinal brace, be sure to remind me how wonderful this house is.

DeJockamo would have wanted it that way.

Yo.

Today has to be one of the most bi-polar days I have experienced in my life.

Ever.

First, I’ll start with the low so that I might end on an up tone. It’s also the proper chronological order of the day.

Lady and I have had two adorable, well mannered, and sweet little ferrets as pets for many years now — since they were kits. They are Silk and Fagan, and their ages are six and seven years old, respectively. That’s a pretty healthy age for ferrets to achieve — they are grand old dames.

Ferrets develop some nasty problems as they get older, and usually complications from these problems are what do them in. About a year ago, Silk had her spleen removed as it had become grossly enlarged, the size of a hot-dog, and that’s awfully big for a two pound ferret. She recovered quite well, becoming more active as she become accustomed to not having a mass that was about one third of her body mass lodged in her abdomen.

Not long thereafter, Silk was diagnosed with insulinoma (the opposite of diabetes), one of the big three diseases that ferrets develop as they become geriatric. The good news is it was treatable — for a while — but ultimately would be fatal. How long, who knows. Two months, two years. It was different for every critter. We started giving her medicine twice a day, and she rallied back quite well, but being the old maid that she was, she was moving a little slower. A few months later Fagan was also diagnosed with insulinoma, but hey, we were already old hands at administering medicine to the other fuzzy-butt so this was no problem.

About two months ago at a regularly scheduled visit, the Doc found a growth in Silk’s mouth and we had it tested. The results came back positive for cancer. We had two options available to us. Chemotherapy, which would only extend her life a little while but would destroy the quality of it, or let it go and keep her quality of life as high as we could. We chose to keep her comfortable and monitor her for pain or trouble until the inevitable day came that we would have to make the hardest choice we’ve had to make since Silk entered our lives.

Today was that day.

Two weeks ago, we had a scare and brought her to see the Doc. He noted that the cancerous tumor in her mouth had grown a bit, but not as much as he had expected. She was still quite active and she wasn’t exhibiting any signs of discomfort. He saw no reason that we couldn’t take her home and continue showering her with love for a while yet, but the clock was ticking. Fast.

The last few days found Silk more and more lethargic. This morning she was unresponsive for a while and had trouble eating her morning "treat" which is a concoction called Duck Soup, laced with her medicine. Lady decided to take her to work with her with the intent of getting her to the Doc, knowing that today might well be the day. Doc confirmed that Silk had reached a downward slope.

It’s one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in a while. Silk transcended mere pet status — she was family. I loved that little critter so much. Lady and I said our goodbyes. I stroked Silk’s back, let her know I loved her and apologized. I apologized for not being able to do more, and apologized for not being able to perform the god-like ability of eradicating her troubles and removing her cancer and insulinoma and letting her live an immortal life till the end of time. Instead, all I could do was exorcize the human-like ability to end her suffering before it had become overwhelming.

Today, Silk Liselle Matherne crossed the rainbow bridge, and now plays for eternity with all beloved pets that have gone before her. I love you, my little Silky-doo. Be good and play nice. You take a tiny nibble of my heart with you as you go.

——————————————–

Now that I’ve got you all good and depressed, I’ll hit you with the good news for the day. Lady and I closed on our house today. It’s all legal and everything. We signed more documents than Lucifer himself would present to you to procure legal ownership of your soul. Ol’ pointy-tail ain’t got nothing on American property lawyers.

The last week had been a waiting game. We had all of our paperwork in order, and I kept feeling a sense of impending doom, as though we had forgotten or missed some crucial component. I was waiting for the jack-in-the-box to pop at the signing today.

"I’m sorry Mr. DmentD, you’re genetic test turned up a negative result in the "property ownership" chromosome field. We just got the results back from the lab five minutes ago. Put that pen down, you won’t need to sign any more documents today."

Instead, it all went smoothly in comparison to the road we traveled to get to this point. I didn’t even get so much as a writer’s cramp. Go figure.

We have just entered the next unique phase of this deal. We have to wait until next Tuesday before we can actually take possession of the house. The old couple we bought it from cannot vacate until Monday, as the retirement community they are moving to won’t be ready for them until then. No problem. We’ll just go quietly out of our minds until then, thinking of all the things we have to do before we put one stick of furniture in there, and all the money we have to spend to do it.

No problem. I can do it on my head.

Is it time yet? No? Damn. I fail.

Soon, my peoples, soon. There will be much fun to be had, games to be played, movies to be watched and general hanging out to be done.

Now, go and love your pets, or failing that, love someone else’s. That’s an order.

I lieu of actually getting down to the business of posting something deep and meaningful of my own, I’ll post something deep and meaningful from someone else.

I’m a fan of Elvis Costello. He’s an excellent songwriter, composer and performer. He also proved that you can be angry, angsty and full of venom, and convey that through music without having to resort to being backed up by a four piece heavy metal band, or come from Seattle where actually learning the power chords is optional. This is not to say I don’t enjoy the music of those two genres — I do — I just have an appreciation for someone who can do it in an intelligent and witty manner, backed by either a full orchestra, or even just a single acoustic guitar.

The album Spike is my favorite, hailing from back in 1989. It has some of my favorite songs on it. Tramp The Dirt Down is a vicious jab at Margaret Thatcher and her ways of treating England as her own personal whore ("and when they finally put you in the ground, I’ll stand on your grave and tramp the dirt down") and Miss Macbeth is a little ditty about an old-maid elementary school teacher who is portrayed as, literally, an evil witch of a woman ("and as they tormented her she rose to the bait, even a scapegoat must have someone to hate"). My personal favorite is God’s Comic. Here, I’ll let you read the lyrics for yourself.

God’s Comic
————–

I wish you’d known me when I was alive
I was a funny feller
The crowd would hoot and holler for more
I wore a drunk’s red nose for applause
Oh yes, I was a comical priest
"With a joke for the flock and a hand up your fleece"
Drooling the drink and the lipstick and greasepaint
Down the cardboard front of my dirty dog-collar

CHORUS:
Now I’m dead, now I’m dead, now I’m dead, now I’m dead
And I’m going on to meet my reward
I was scared, I was scared, I was scared, I was scared
He might of never heard God’s Comic

So there he was on a water-bed
Drinking a cola of a mystery brand
Reading an airport novelette
Listening to Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s "Requiem"
He said, before it had really begun
"I prefer the one about my son"
"I’ve been wading through all this unbelievable junk and"
"Wondering if I should have given the world to the monkeys"

CHORUS:
Now I’m dead, now I’m dead, now I’m dead, now I’m dead
And I’m going on to meet my reward
I was scared, I was scared, I was scared, I was scared
He might of never heard God’s Comic

I’m going to take a little trip
Down Paradise’s endless shores
They say that travel broadens the mind
‘Til you can’t get your head out of doors

I’m sitting here on the top of the world,
I hang around in the longest night
Until each beast has gone to bed
And then I say "God bless" and put out the light…

…While you lie in the dark, afraid to breathe
And you beg and you promise and you bargain and you plead
Sometimes you confuse me with Santa Claus
It’s the big white beard I suppose
I’m going up to the pole, where you folks die of cold
I might be gone for a while if you need me

CHORUS:
Now I’m dead, now I’m dead, now I’m dead, now I’m dead
And you’re all going on to meet your reward
Are you scared, are you scared, are you scared, are you scared?
You might have never heard, but God’s comic

Get, or "get" the album and give the rest a listen. I know there are at least a handful of you who will really enjoy it as much as I do.